


Belts, Deadlines & Scowling Mistresses

by TeaseMe2



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, BDSM Scene, Beginnings, Dom/sub, Domme Bella, F/M, First Meetings, First Time, Mistress, POV First Person, Secret Identity, Sub Edward, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaseMe2/pseuds/TeaseMe2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edward is a young journalist waiting for a bigger story. But sometimes you should be careful what you wish for, especially when it involves smug editors, fake IDs, a beautiful temptress and BDSM...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belts, Deadlines & Scowling Mistresses

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing but my ideas, words and an unhealthy obsession with undercover work of all kind.  
> Everything else belongs to their rightful owner. Enjoy & thanks for reading.

            It started with my editor-in-chief, Jacob Black, calling me to this office on an ordinary Monday. My morning had kicked off without a hitch, I was right on time which was slightly unusual for me but other than that there was nothing special about it.

Sitting at my desk, I was editing my latest article, mourning the loss of my college dreams. Back then, like every aspiring journalist student, my dreams consisted of investigating huge conspiracies, health scandals involving pharmaceutical companies or even corrupt politicians.

Though nobody will tell you that for those you need connections, a solid reputation and a lucky break. No, at first, it's obituaries, B&E and the occasional birthday of the town's oldest resident.

That is what being a journalist meant to me since I started two years ago. Fresh out of college, my head full of big dreams, I was gonna be the next Bob Woodward or Carl Bernstein, exposing the hidden truth of our world for the sake of the people. Believing in the right of my fellow citizen to know what their leaders conspired behind their backs, I wanted to reveal the dirty secrets of the most powerful people through my investigations and my writing. I was sure that one day, my name would be written on the front page of the Seattle Times, I believed in my dreams, that's what put me through endless study nights at college while my friends were throwing wild parties but it had not paid off yet.

 

I snorted at the naive young man I used to be when my boss yelled across the office space, “Edward. My office, now”. I hurried to his office, knocked and entered as he hung up his phone.

 

The man used to be a damn good journalist, Jacob Black was a legend in Seattle. Fifteen years ago he linked a group of dirty cops to a prostitution ring and a series of unresolved murders. He disobeyed his editor's order and kept digging until he had enough to expose the whole operation; the man was tenacious like a dog when you give him a bone, there was nothing that could have stopped him back then and he made for a decent boss today. If only he would let me take interesting stories.

Never mind, I would persevere, come to him with ideas for papers until he caved and I think he appreciated, valued even, that need to do more with yourself than you're asked for, to be a driven son of a bitch.

 

Thanks to that, there was a mutual respect between us and I didn't whine – much – when he sent me out to cover the inauguration of the city new museum.

 

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

 

“Yes, close the door, Cullen and sit down.” I looked at him and prayed for something, anything but another meaningless piece.

 

He told me about a call he received earlier in the day from the group of investors who owned the Seattle Times, it seems the paper isn't doing that good anymore. Our sales are down 20% this month alone and they needed us to change that. Jacob went on a rant about the dickhead representing our investors, who didn't know shit about running a paper much less a good article – his words, not mine.

 

“So the bastard had the nerve to explain that they want us to be sexier, more attractive to younger readers and women. He goes on and on about the golden age, when we had prostitutes and scandalous affairs on front page every day, but today, according to that motherfucker, all we ever write about is war in Syria, the healthcare bill or the economic crisis, which that dumb fuck told me verbatim is boring. Can you believe that jackass? That's word for word what the fucker said to me....”

 

He went on and on about the slow death of journalism and lack of ideals, told me he fought for our paper as if it were his first born which I am grateful for. I hoped to write such a _boring_ piece one day, whether it be on war or the government policies and to be frank, writing about Lindsay Lohan's latest boob job or DUI held little interest to me.

 

He explained the compromise they reached, “I told them it had to be an investigation to limit the bullshit sex stories to a minimum and keep our fucking standards. We're not People for fuck's sake.”

 

My boss was fuming as he paced, spinning his pen between his thumb and forefinger as he spoke. I was listening with attention, nodding my agreement from time to time but most of all I let him rant. In the two years we've worked together I've learned all about my editor's short fuse and how to behave when it happens. From time to time, he needs to explode and let the pressure out before going back to normal. I guess his temper runs hot but at least he's not an asshole. That's something in our line of work, believe me.

 

He was starting to calm down as he sat down behind his desk. He rummaged through the mess of papers that was spread on it as he kept talking. “They suggested a list of subjects for me to choose from. Now let me tell you, Cullen, it wasn't pretty. You wouldn't believe half the shit that was on it. UN-fucking-believable, I'm telling you, this assignment is the lesser evil, believe me.”

 

“What is it, boss? I assume it's mine since I'm here?” He was stalling. Never a good sign with him. Shit, it must be bad. Hello, Lindsay Lohan's boobs. Here I come, investigating the fuck out of your size and shape....Fuck me.

 

“Yes, well you've been begging for a better piece for a while Cullen and this might attract some attention if it's done right so I need you on it”, the smug bastard grinned at me.

 

“Come on, chief, don't make me do it again. What am I working on?” I smirked back, anxious to know my next assignment. If the way he was sugarcoating it was anything to go by, I should be scared out of my fucking mind.

 

“I need you to investigate a Mistress. I want to know how they live, what they do with their time, how they cope with their family, but most of all I want the juicy bits, the sexy, the scandalous part of their lives. I want to get a fucking hard on when I read your piece” he said to me, crossing his hands on a file. “I want a deep cover article. No real names, no regular interview, you're immersing yourself in her life, getting the reader an insight on what happens behind closed doors.” I let out a sigh but got back on track.

 

“OK. Yeah, no problem. I'll pretend to be married and I'll even fuck a woman for the sake of true journalism” I teased. I wasn't expecting my editor to crack up with laughter. Now, I'm a pretty funny guy but really? Not _that_ much. I was slightly confused but the words that came out of Black's mouth cleared that up for me.

 

“Not a mistress as in a cheating husband and his paramour, Cullen, but as in whips and chains, men on their knees, leather skirts and whatnot.”

 

“WHAT?” The fuck, I thought. I barely knew those kind existed. I mean sure I've seen BDSM in porn like every guy. I'm aware it's out there, I will even admit to fantasizing about tied up women, but I'm not a submissive man, what the hell am I supposed to do? Just lay there and take it?? God dammit.

 

“Come on, Cullen. You're my youngest reporter, you're fit, you're good looking. You're the only one I got for this job. And you don't have to do anything, I was just messing with you. You can just bolt at the last minute or whatever. All I need you to do is get close enough to write something real, that feels authentic. I'm not asking you to have sex with her, shit, I know I'm a hard ass but come on.” I relaxed the fuck out as he said that. Thank God for that. There would be no submitting of any kind except for that of my article. I could do it. I think...

 

“Besides, you might like it, who knows...and the look on your face was too good to pass up, sorry”, he taunted. “Now I know it's not what you would have wanted but I need you to take one for the team, Cullen. Do that for me and I won't forget. Next assignment you'll get will be much better than that, trust me.”

 

“Do I really have a choice?”

 

“Ah” he deadpanned, “you're funny kid. No. Here you go. ” He handed me the file he was laying on earlier. “Inside the folder you'll find a list of fetish clubs, it will get you started and the intern made some research for you on the lifestyle. Everything is in there.”

I opened it and saw a list of names, photographs of women in racy lingerie and pictures of what looked like a dimly lit basement with various objects on the wall and a weird cross with shackles on it. Holy shit. It looked like a horror movie to me.

 

“Fucking hell, boss...”

 

I'd like to consider myself fairly open-minded, still that was weird, even for me. I love sex, I like pleasuring women as much as the next guy, but the kinkiest thing I've ever done is a threesome with two hot sorority chicks. And the only sex remotely connected to BDSM I can remember having involved a feather tickler along with a pair of furry pink handcuffs.....

Yeah, not exactly sadist material, I know. And I was always the one on top, never the submissive. Not my style. But, hey, to each their own. As far as I'm concerned, it's not my business what my neighbor does with his ass. I would bear it for the sake of my career, I suppose.

 

“I know, Edward. I'm giving you three weeks, I want a 6 pages article at least. Don't forget, I want something juicy, Cullen. We'll publish it in two parts most likely so think about that while you're writing it. OK, I think that's it. Go on, unless you have other questions?”

 

“No sir.” I left his office with the brown folder containing my assignment tucked under my arm.

 

Fuck my life. To think that twenty minutes ago I was hoping for something bigger. Better be careful what you wish for, right?

I wanted something more important and what do I end up with? A sexed-up version of the puff piece I was editing earlier. Of course. Great. What a fucking step up...

I was bitter as fuck and I needed a drink so I packed my shit up for the night and headed home.

I was waiting for the elevator when I heard Jacob bellow.

 

“Don't forget my hard-on, Cullen!”

 

Fuck, the things I would do for my career...

 

            Arriving home a little after eight, I went straight to my bar and pulled out the scotch. I needed a drink, preferably several in fact but Emmett and Jasper, two of my oldest friends, were supposed to come for movie nights. The tradition had started back in college and we never missed a week without it. Now that we were all working, it gave us a good excuse to meet every week and talk about our lives. Sex is a huge topic of conversation of course, so I'm sure those bastards would laugh their ass off at my predicament.

I poured twice my usual dose into my glass, ice cubes and swished the glass back and forth. I savored the first sip like water in the desert. God, I needed that. I put down my drink to find my cigarettes, grabbed a lighter, my drink back from the table and headed to the porch to have a smoke.

 

I blew thick rings of smoke into the air, something Jasper taught me in college to pick up chicks.

My Texan friend had many aces up his sleeves to seduce the ladies and this one, god knows why, worked like a charm.

 

Speaking of the devil, I thought, as a car appeared up the driveway. Not bad, they were on time for once. The night was spent talking about Jasper's new lady, Emmett's latest sexy conquest and my dreaded assignment.

I was right, they laughed for two minutes at my hardship before offering various suggestions on how to proceed and giving me high fives for, as Emmett put it, being the lucky son of a bitch who goes to work in a dungeon where beautiful and fierce hookers operated.

 

Truth be told, I saw no silver lining in my current situation, but my friends cheered me up. To say that they were enthusiasts would be putting it very, VERY mildly. They grilled me about my article, my sources, both offered to come with me – no shit- and we spent much of the remaining night wondering about floggers, whips, chains, crosses and spankings.

 

 

            The next morning, I was thumbing through the file my editor gave me. Other than the pictures, his intern had come up with a list of known fetish clubs and common rules of the lifestyle. I needed to find a dominatrix, but was not sure how to set things in motion. I had to get access for my article, which meant getting in touch with one of those mistresses. I checked the Internet for additional info, looking up the bars and a way to connect with people there. It seemed they held meetings every third Sunday of the month, specifically designated for members to meet.

 

Deciding to pose as a submissive man in the next one was the logical step. I penned down the address of four high end clubs and combed through the Internet for every piece of resource I could find. I stumbled upon contracts between dominants and their submissive, lists of things both parties agreed to and stuff they would not touch, which they called hard limits.

 

 

 

 

 

            The rest of my week was spent in much the same way, looking up facts about BDSM and the people who called themselves _doms_ or _subs_. I learn the theory, started to write my article but it lacked the sensual, the sexy, everything about my writing screamed inexperienced, it had no authenticity to it because I didn't know how it felt.

I went on forums dedicated to the lifestyle, to try and get in touch with what I had come to realize was a whole community. Some were happy to explain how it worked, others were suspicious of my intentions. One man, nicknamed _dominant_bastard_ , explained to me that the media had given such a perverted view of their sexuality, making many of them wary of me when I posted as a journalist on their forum. I suppose they thought I would not be any different and would mock their choices, misleading what they labeled as vanilla people into viewing them as freaks.

They were wrong. My aim was to give an accurate account of that fetish and the whole community. Yes, it needed to be sexy to be published as per the paper's investors request, however I wanted it to be real, truthful, not just another borderline smutty article on the subject, nor a one-sided view fabricated with every common prejudice out there. I'm a journalist, not a fiction or erotic writer, so my story had to relate true facts, even if it needed a racy undertone.

 

 

 

 

            The day of the Munch, I was a nervous mess. I dressed elegantly in black slacks, a dress shirt and my regular black jacket but was careful not to overdo it. After all it was an informal meeting and not a glamorous soiree, and the online page just stated correct dress code, without any specifications.

I checked with dominant_bastard, who approved wholeheartedly. He was going to meet me there, to talk more in person and help me meet dominant women along with navigating his world. I had asked him not to reveal my profession, as I wanted my first meetings with the participants to be as real as possible.

 

I drove towards downtown, where the bar and the club were located, feeling jittery and anxious as I approached. I parked the car not far from the front entrance, rested my head on the wheel, sighed and got out of my car. This was not my usual demeanor, I'm more cocky in my every day life but this assignment had me on edge and while I had done my research on the subject, I was anxious to discover it in the flesh.

I'm not sure what I expected from dominant_bastard, but that wasn't the smiling blonde man in his forties who greeted me at the bar entrance. I suppose my mind had imagined him as more of a dark character, someone who radiated authority or something.

 

“Hey, Edward, right?”, he said to me as I fidgeted with my phone, waiting for him.

 

“Yeah, nice to meet you, dominant_bastard”, I thrust my hand between us, he shook it and laughed before answering, full of mirth, “You can just call me Carlisle here, nice to meet you too, man.”

 

I sent him a grateful smile, thanking God he wasn't a twisted psychopath and said as much when he asked me how I was doing, which prompted another fit of laughter from the man.

 

“Don't worry, dude, you wouldn't be the first to have such apprehension for your introduction to the scene”, he reassured with an easy grin, “Most of us are actually very boring.”

 

“Well, apart from our sexual quirks”, Carlisle amended quickly, “Shall we?” he asked as he gestured to the opening wooden doors. They were painted red, with black lettering on it and a sexy pin up, on her knees, before a cartoonized man holding a whip.

 

“Sure, lead the way.”

 

We took the stairs down to reach the main level of what seemed like a regular club. People were eating, drinking and talking to each other. I saw high heels, a lot of black, red, vinyl and leather, but other than that, it didn't seem any different to places I used to go on my off time.

 

“So, first impression? Are you scared, yet?”, Carlisle steered us towards the bar, taking it easy on me as I was still reeling from my first impression of the scene. I went for liquid courage, ordering a double scotch as my nerves were still fried.

 

I took a sip of my drink before replying, “It's a lot to take in”, my bdsm expert agreed and we started talking about his first experience. Turns out one of his girlfriend asked him to try handcuffs twenty years ago and he never looked back. I was full of questions, asking about his experience, his view on the community and such.

It was very insightful for me considering my dominant friend had been into it for a long time, he held a somewhat realistic perspective and strikes me as being a straight shooter.

 

“I get the worldwide interest, and it has grown exponentially since that book, you know, and for my part I consider there is no such thing as bad publicity. But some articles I've read on it are just appalling.”

 

“Yes, I got the impression that I was the enemy when I read the first comments on my post online. And don' get me wrong, I do understand the need for privacy, however, to write about it, I need facts and feelings, people and context. That is why I sort of harassed you, because you were on the most prominent poster on the forum so I wanted to get your opinion on things, you know?”

 

He nodded, seemingly understanding, before putting his glass back on the bar. “Yes, but can you blame us? We've been depicted as horrible sexual deviants for years and that is only starting to change. I was reluctant to respond in the first place when I read your email, yet I couldn't shake it off. I guess if you're steered in the right direction for your article, I'm hoping it will do us a favor and explain to others that we're just regular people.”

 

“Fair enough, Carlisle.”

 

We spent half an hour at the bar, quietly drinking as I quizzed him on every facet of the lifestyle, what it entailed, what it meant for his regular, day-to-day life and such. He answered truthfully and without concession, disclosing most of that while criticizing some aspect of the scene. I liked him. The man was forward yet respectful of my reserves as I had never entered those waters.

 

I surveyed the scenery, watching people mingle, as if it were nothing more than a regular gathering of like minded individuals. I reflected on what Carlisle had told me, as we ordered another drink. People were coming up to greet him from time to time, I guess he was sort of a hot commodity around here. Now, I have no interest in men, but even I had to admit he was attractive and he appeared to be friendly.

Some of what I assumed were other dominant men, were acting tough and standoffish, embodying every cliche I had about bdsm. Others, women and men alike were keeping their eyes down, some were wearing necklaces which I think I remember was a sign of ownership but wasn't sure so I asked Carlisle about it. He explained they were called collars and did indeed signify one submissive's appartenance to a dominant.

 

 

At some point, a woman approached us. She seemed older than me, closer to Carlisle's age but still she made my cock stand to attention. The brunette was perched on a pair of black shiny high-heeled pumps from which her toes peaked. They were painted blood red, making her stand out along with the very tight skirt that molded her curves. Fuck, she's beautiful, I thought as my eyes raked over her figure. She scowled for a minute which hardened my cock.

What the fuck? My heart beat faster as I noticed the woman gaze briefly at my pants, smile, then bit her bottom lip.

Oh, sweet Jesus, my cock twitched again while the seductress entrapped me using her feminine wiles to lure me in. She introduced herself as Isabella, I shook her hand and gave her a fake name.

Carlisle excused himself, winking at me as he departed.

 

Shit, am I getting picked up? I have no idea how that works... I'm used to making the first move, not the other way around.

 

“You've never came to a munch before, have you?” She sat besides me before ordering a glass of white wine to the bartender.

 

“Am I that obvious?” I asked her. She smiled mischievously at me and nodded.

 

“You look a bit out of your depth, to be honest.”

 

“Yeah, I am...I've never done that.”

 

“I could tell”, she winked at me over the brim of her glass.

 

I smiled back and sighed. Shifting in my seat, I looked over the room for Carlisle, the only familiar face I could rely on. I started to feel like this was a really bad idea, I was ill-at-ease. As uncomfortable as I was, I needed to be there for my article.

 

Here I was, sitting at a bar among people who like to be chained or the other way around, talking to a woman who could eat me for lunch. I was back to my teen years, as awkward as that gangly teenager who had no clue how to speak to women.

As if that wasn't enough, we were joined by another woman who greeted Isabella with great flourish. The blonde amazon came up to Isabella and hugged her. My potential subject turned her attention to the woman, letting me breathe again while they chatted together.

 

I saw Carlisle across the room, flirting with a young woman. He looked up and gave me a sly smile as his prospective playmate lowered her head. It seemed things were going well for the man I formerly knew as _dominant_bastard._ Good for him, despite the circumstances of my assignment, it was great to meet the guy and I could see us having a drink in the future.

 

I was beginning to understand that the people involved in this community were regular men and women but they liked a certain brand of pleasure rather than what the majority of the sexually active population preferred. I guess it is no different than choosing red over blue as one's favorite colors.

 

I observed my beautiful temptress with a side glance. Running her fingers through her wavy, shoulder length brown hair, she was laughing with the red blonde when a man joined them. They talked for a minute or two before leaving Isabella alone.

 

Huh, maybe that was her submissive, I wondered, full of curiosity yet not stupid enough to ask. I was about to call it a night, getting tired and still feeling out of place when she turned back to me.

“Are you here with someone, Riley?”

 

“No, I came with my friend”, I watched her brown eyes narrow at me. Shit, she made me nervous. What the fuck is wrong with me? I stiffened and fidgeted in my seat as I carried on. “I've never done that...I'm just...Fuck...I mean, yeah, I'm new to all this.”

 

Great. No, really, good going there, buddy. Just lay it out there, ramble and stutter, that's attractive. I'm so gonna fuck it up. Arg, _focus_ I told myself, trying to relax under the intense scrutiny of the woman before me. Her eyes crinkled with little lines as she smiled and let out a laugh.

Hell, even her smile is pretty. And don't even get me started on her breasts because she's a curvy woman and we all know what that means. Bottom line is, she was gorgeous, and my cock was definitely noticing.

 

“Are you interested?” her eyebrow went up while she smirked at me. Oh, I am, baby, just not the way you want me. My phone buzzed in my pocket, which reminded me that contrary to what my libido thought, I was here for work, not pleasure. Trying to get back into my professional mindset and refraining every basic male instinct in my body that dictated me to take charge, or flee for that matter, I sent her a high-strung smile.

 

“I might.” I didn't want to appear over eager but hell, for her I'd tie my hands and watch as she'd fuck me without hesitation.

 

“Don't worry, I'll go easy on you, newbie” she winked and got up.

 

I was startled to realize that I was following her, running on simple impulse. We exited the club and agreed to take my car to her place because she had taken a taxi from home. She quizzed me on my sexual history up until that moment. I tried being as honest as possible, she already knew I had no bdsm experience so there was no point in lying to her about my sex life. She told me what to expect, not in great length, though I suppose she wanted to ease me into and she was mindful of my growing apprehension, and I was grateful for that.

 

My mind had trouble processing my next course of actions along with reconciling what I should do and what I was surprised to discover I wanted to do. There was a part of me, deep inside where hidden desires lie, that yearned for something new. I had spent the better part of the last hour lusting after that alluring woman. She was gorgeous, kind yet Isabella was about to take control over me, to bring my mind to a place where her command would compel every single move I made.

 

We reached her home in twenty or maybe thirty minutes, I couldn't be sure, my mind was too distracted to pay attention to a trivial thing like time. A beautiful house stood before me, in the middle of the trees, at the end of a long driveway. It looked peaceful, surrounded by green, and kind of perfect for screaming men one would spank into orgasmic oblivion.

 

As my ever growing anticipation rose to an all-time high, she lead me inside, where we had a drink prior to any play time my cock was expecting. I was almost positive I would not bail at the last moment. How could I? There she was in her scrumptious glory, not offering herself for me but tempting me to switch sides. I could do that once, right? I mean, I'm secure enough in my masculinity to let her dominate me. In principle. And she makes me so freaking horny, there should be no problem there, I reflected. That is a quite simple equation, I don't have to let her do anything except push me out of my comfort zone and relinquish every part of me to her disciplinarian hand.

 

Fuck, I'm really gonna do it, aren't I? I exhaled and made peace with my decision. This might have started as an assignment, but to my complete astonishment, it became something more. Freed from the weight of my choice, I cleared my head of any last shred of the pseudo guilt I was experiencing.

Being a man wasn't about dominating your partner or conforming to whatever society stereotyped me into. Nor was I weak for wanting this.

 

I remembered something Carlisle had told me in the beginning of the week, when he started explaining how submission could work between people who weren't deviant, just horny for a different kind of pleasure. He said the submissive held the true power, in the sense that she -in his case, but him in mine- decided, of her own free will, to let him reign over her mind, to a certain extent, and most of all her body. The sub deliberately chooses to give power to the dominant, and as he put it, that took a lot of courage. To free oneself from any concept of wrong-doing society passed on you, from the shame you could feel when doing so. To let your desires guide you and not a certain idea of what is moral or not, what is adequate, satisfactory or unsuitable, disturbing and deviant. I recalled precisely his words, _I am my own person and no established common thought or moral will define me._

 

At that moment, I understood very well what he tried to explain before. It hit me then, and that might have been the instant I sealed my fate, this was something I couldn't have perceived with that much clarity without experiencing it. This turmoil of emotion inside of me, this compelling staccato that my heart drummed without interruption...Those reactions were all caused by the forthcoming submission I would lay before my beautiful temptress' feet. I wasn't debasing myself, nor was I pathetic, no. I felt stronger than ever, baring a large part of my self to another human being. I thought it was beautiful, and yeah, maybe that was due to the alcohol I had consumed earlier, but most likely, I was euphoric to plunge into something new as if I were free-falling for the first time.

 

After offering me a drink, she took my hand, said “Come” and lead me into the unknown. We stopped at a door, she joked “I don't have a key, so no dramatic entrance, sorry” which made me smile. She opened the door to what appeared to be a regular bedroom, painted brown and red, it made me think of cherries and strangely enough, it did not look like a chamber of torture. I was envisioning something dark, gloomy and moist maybe? Well, that was not it.

The bed stood against the far end wall of the room, made with black sheet and white pillow, the only difference I could spot with a normal bed seemed to be the restraints hanging from the four-poster bed. I was expecting whips and chains, maybe some large collection of paddles mounted on the wall, but there was nothing else in the room, except a desk and chair, a kind of bench I had no idea what one would do with, though I'm sure my little minx would show me at some point. Overall, it was a far cry from any images my mind had conjured and quite a stretch with pictures I had seen through the Internet.

 

“Not what you were expecting huh?” she asked smiling widely.

 

“No, it's really not.”

 

“Well, sorry to disappoint? But I'm not really a steel and basement kind of girl” I beamed at her. Thank fuck she wasn't that sort of dominatrix. I'm not sure I would have bolted otherwise, but that only strengthened my decision to go through with my assignment. All the way.

 

“Are you still up to this?” I loved that she checked. And smiled internally at the dirty joke that I couldn't suppress. Oh baby, I'm more than up for this. I nodded.

“I want to hear you say it, Riley.”

 

“Yes” I simply said. She stared at me for half a minute more, searching my eyes for any sign of uncertainty but braced herself when she came up short.

 

“OK, then from now on I want you to call me Mistress. You don't talk, you don't move, you don't even twitch a finger until I tell you to. Understood?” She asked me, well practically demanded to be honest.

 

I watched her as she turned into a stronger version of herself, her eyes became harder, it was difficult to explain, but whereas she radiated natural authority, it seemed almost muted before, contrary to her present behavior. My cock was right along with her, I was so hard it was almost painful.

Fuck, I still had trouble believing this excited me as much, but the evidence of my arousal could not be denied, and she knew it, if the ever present smirk on her face was any indication.

 

“Yes” I answered her request in a low tone, half horny and half anxious to begin.

 

“Yes, what?”

 

“I'm sorry?”

 

“Yes, what?” she insisted. I was lost in the moment, unable to understand what she wanted from me. Adrenaline coursed through my body as she circled me like a predator would her prey. She let her finger slide from one shoulder to another, gliding her finger over the muscles in my back. My breath hitched as she whispered in my ear “Yes, what, Riley?”

I moaned when the temptress licked my earlobe, feeling my blood rush down to my cock, as she trailed her finger lower on my back. I jerked a little when she grabbed my ass with her hand.

 

“Afraid of a little ass play, Riley?” she taunted as she smacked my ass. First one cheek then the other, establishing a pattern she was intent on following.

“Shh”, she murmured when I started to groan from the pain, “that's for forgetting to address me properly. Every time you do, every time you fail, I will punish you, Riley, whether it be spanking that gorgeous ass, flogging it or other unpleasant punishments. Do you understand?”

 

Although pain was definitely radiating from my backside, there was something different too. Fuck, I'm starting to like, I thought as she caressed my abused buttocks. It was a strange mix between pain and pleasure, my arousal of the evening, her, and the way she behaved, how she bit my earlobe and licked it, her hand caressing my skin...Jesus, I want her.

 

“Yes, Mistress”

 

She circled me again as my heartbeat accelerated, a pleased smile on her face. God, she was beautiful. Her eyes were almost black with lust. Her pupils were dilated with desire and anticipation of what was to come.

 

“Get your clothes off” she asked forcefully as she perched herself on the desk before me, observing me. My fingers made quick work of that task while she remained silent.

 

“Put them here”, she indicated the side of her desk with a nod. Isab- Mistress got up as I approached, she sidestepped me to the right when I put my clothes down and said “Faster, Riley, I don't have all night.”

 

“Yes Mistress”

 

“Come here” she ordered as I turned back to her. “Kneel down, thighs apart, hands on your head.”

 

My body was on auto-pilot as I took my stance on the ground, just as she wanted.

 

“Good. You will adopt this position every time we start to play.”

 

When I didn't answer, she grabbed my chin and looked in my eyes. “You will answer when I speak to you, boy, and look down unless I tell you otherwise.”

 

The look in her eye astonished me, she radiated strength and still, lust but that wasn't the thing I remarked most, I was used to lust in women's eyes but not that strong, authoritarian gaze. Or maybe I was already too deep in our scene, I don't know, but her eyes...they were stunning and fierce, this woman...fuck, she'd be the death of me. What a way to go though, I told myself as I relinquished every part of me to her keeping. I knew she would take care of me, and that was freeing too, in a sense. I let myself go completely and answered “Yes, mistress.”

 

I looked down, my eyes resting on her pumps, those black fuck me shoes. I surprised myself as a stray thought about licking them entered my mind. I was at her feet, she towered over me while my head was downcast and I was loving it. I imagined the look she must have on her face while she watched me. Was she getting flushed with arousal? Was it simple routine play for her or did my submission meant as much to her as it did for me? Did she bite her bottom lip as she looked me over? Fuck, I would have laughed to be a mind reader right about now.

 

“Hold this position, I'll be back” she told me before I heard the click of her high heels running away from me. Holy shit, where is she going? My mind was racing while my heart beat louder in my ears, or maybe it was the deafening silence in the empty room which amplified it? I started sweating. I could feel the strain of the posture on my muscles yet my cock was still hard as ever. The tip leaked pre-cum, dripping against my stomach onto my thighs as I waited for her to return. Fuck, in any other case, I would have just stroked my cock until she came back, but I figured she would most likely not approve so I tried to think of anything else. Yeah, not happening, my mind is stuck on a loop, arousal seeping through me even more as she made me wait. I was craving release and I desperately wanted to bury my cock inside my beautiful temptress.

 

She came back some time later. I couldn't tell precisely how much time had passed. Maybe five minutes, maybe fifteen...My horny brain had no proper way of estimating it with the fog of arousal that clouded it, there was nothing but sex on my mind and she was the only one I wanted. She could have cut me loose right there and I would have probably begged her to let me stay, I felt _that_ desperate for her touch and the things she could open my mind to. I surrendered wholeheartedly to my temptress, hoping she would not lead me to things I couldn't handle, leaving my whole being into her hands, ready to be crushed at her will.

 

“Look at me.” Her tone was laden with desire as she granted me permission to look up. And fuck if she wasn't in her bra and barely there panties. God, take mercy on me. The woman was- there was no word. She looked perfect to me, just the right mix of sinful and tasteful, an enticing force to be reckoned with.

I had no intention to resist.

I swallowed audibly while she smirked at me. Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing to me. And she liked it, I could tell. She had that hunger in her eyes, she liked what she saw and she wanted it.

 

“Get on the bed, on all fours” she instructed as desire and fear spiked simultaneously in me, “Now”, she added with a stern look aimed my way. I hurried on the king-sized mattress, getting in position for her. I felt exposed, vulnerable even in that position which I suppose was the point. She approached quietly and warned me as she touched my back again.

 

“I'm going to tie you up, Riley. If at any point you want to stop, I need you to choose a safe word, something you can remember easily, OK? I'm sorry, I should have asked you before we started to play...but I was too caught up in you, in the beauty of being your first, witnessing your entry into the unknown world of pleasure you seek. My mistake” she explained while my breath hitched.

 

I was afraid she was going to say that. She saw my hesitation and sighed, “this is why we should have picked your safe word before. I want you to trust me, Riley, to put yourself in my hands without fear.”

 

“Yes, mistress” my answer was a knee-jerk reaction. Here she was, patient and remorseful for her small lapse of judgment while I needed her. I wanted her, more than I had ever desired anyone or anything up to this point. That moment was not going to be ruined with worries or apologies, I needed it too much, I started to realize. Even now, as I stood naked on all fours on a bed that wasn't mine, in a house I didn't knew and with a woman I didn't know until a few hours ago, the only thing I was thinking about was more. More, more, more. I yearned for her touch at that moment, so I quickly answered “I'm okay, mistress, I'm okay. And I trust you-”

 

“Riley, I-” she interrupted but I wasn't about to let her conscience of how textbook first meetings with a sub should go ruin ours so I imitated her and cut her off. “Please, mistress, my safe word is cherry”

I had a flash, while I was speaking, of the thought that popped into my mind when I entered her playroom. _Cherries._ Perfect, I thought.

 

“Very well. Cherry it is.” She smiled and regained her pre-misshap stance. Mistress straightened and fastened my restraints, getting back into the right mindset as she snapped the cuffs to my hands, then my feet. I heard her walk then stop and riffle through a drawer for a minute before coming back to my side. I turned my head towards her and saw she was holding a blindfold in her hands.

 

I jerked back with instinct as she started to lift it towards my head but quickly corrected myself. Isabella grinned and just said “remember, cherry.”

 

I was breathing loudly as she secured it over my eyes. That was another first for me, but I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be the last with Isabella. The woman had a way of compelling me, she was luring me to submission and I was only too happy to oblige and follow her lead.

 

She caressed my neck, trailed down the plane of my back again and cupped my ass with her hands. I was thankful for the hours I had put in the gym these past years, I knew my body was fit, but she took appreciation to a whole new level. She was reverently touching my body, almost like she worshiped it. I wasn't used to that attention but it felt good. My cock must have been dripping onto the sheets while tremors coursed through me, to the beat of her hands. I heard a pop and I jerked sideways a bit. My skittish demeanor seemed to amuse her, she let out a cute little laugh at my anticipation.

 

“First time in blindfold too, I take it?”

 

“Yes, mistress.”

 

“I love them, they take away the sense we tend to rely most on, our sight and emphasizes your others, such as hearing or touch. Do you like it so far, my little submissive?”she inquired as my cock twitched once more.

 

Fuuuck, she's making me crazy. That word, submissive, elicited a groan from my throat, arousing me in ways I could not anticipate. I would come to terms with that later, but for now the only thing I could focus on was her voice, her touch and my needs. I wanted release, in whatever form she would offer me. I needed to fuck her with a desperation I would have never believed mere hours ago, yet I was content to wait her out. She obviously liked to draw it out, make me hunger for more as she dangles an inch in front of my face.

 

I silenced my inner ramblings when I felt her massage my buttocks. My breath hitched as she spanked them, twice each and I moaned with surprising pleasure. I never thought spankings could be so damn erotic on me, I had dabbled with a few girlfriend but never switched.

 

 _Oh, sweet Jesus_ , she carried on smacking them but added a hand on my cock to the mix. She slowly stroke my hardened member with her hand, twisting it at the tip. _Fuck, shit, hell...._

 _HOLY SHIT!_ She went lower and touched my balls, rolling them with her talented fingers. My mind was swimming in a sea of pleasure and she was my only anchor. I groaned then moaned loudly at her ministrations on my crotch coupled with her spanking. My cheeks were so sensitive that each slap seemed connected to my leaking cock. Holy fuck, I thought, what is she doing to me?

 

“You like that, my little slut?” Her hand stopped and I whined to get it back on me, while my my lust spiked at her dirty talk.

“Yes, mistress...please” I whimpered to my beautiful temptress.

 

She laughed at me, “Oh don't worry, Riley, I will get you what you need.” I struggled with my restraints as she taunted me, which earned me four more slaps on my cheeks, only serving to incense my intense arousal.

 

She spread my legs and my heart raced in my chest, anxiously awaiting what would surely come next, and she did not disappoint. I felt the tip of her finger circling my hole as adrenaline and my arousal were running wild.

 

“Ohhh” I moaned in a higher pitch when she breached my opening. She pushed her finger gradually into my asshole but my mind barely registered any discomfort. I breathed heavily in the silent room and she sped up her thrusts, angling her fingers in a strange curve inside of me-

 

“What the fuuuck, oh God, ahhhhh” I screamed, “Ohhhhh...mistress...what aaah” I moaned incoherently as she hit a pleasure spot.

 

“Oh yes, my little slut, I know” she cooed at me while I babbled mindlessly, “Shhh, that, Riley, is your prostate. I reckon that's another first?”

 

“Yes, mistress, huuuuh, I'm gonna cum” I moaned and plead with her. I desperately needed to cum and her fingers were going to make me spill in record time, so I tried to warn her, unsure about what to do.

 

“Not yet” she ordered sternly while she added another finger in my ass.

 

“Ahhhh....Fuck, I'm gonna cum, mistress, please....” I plead with my relentless assailant as she sped her thrusts. I was rocking my body back and forth in time with her fingers. I wanted- no needed more and I wasn't sure how long I could delay my impending release with the pleasure I felt running through my body. My cock swelled, the tip twitched and leaked without her hand to stroke it, just because of the attention she gave to my asshole.

 

“Go ahead, my little slut, cum” she commanded as I felt my balls swelling and the pressure in my cock intensify. It was like an electrical discharge, it electrified every inch of me as her words reached my ear.

 

“Ohhhhh, fuck, shit, hell, oh my goood” I squealed loudly when I came, then everything went black.

 

 

“Riley”

 

“Riley, come on, wake up”

 

I came to as she squeezed my shoulders and sent her a dopey smile which made her grin.

 

“Are you okay?”she asked as she untied my feet before my hands.

 

“Yeah, I'm not sure what happened-”

 

“Overload, your body just shut down. I've seen it before, don't worry, you're okay” she answered my question and I smirked, “overload of pleasure huh, never happened to me before.”

 

“Well stick with me and it could happen again”, she winked to me while we laughed.

 

Fuck, I was spent. She left my side for a bit, only to return with a washcloth and a bowl of hot water. Lo and behold, to my utter amazement, my beautiful temptress started to wash my body of any fluids, beginning with my deflated cock. She took her time to clean me up, softly lecturing me on aftercare as she did so. She questioned me, despite my brain being barely coherent, I managed to answer her truthfully. That experience was the single most amazing one in my life and I never even fucked her. Holy fuck, I thought, that was out of this world. I've never experienced anything like it.

 

After an hour of idle chat and questions on my part, she gave me her number, took mine and let me take my leave after making me swear I was feeling up to driving. I appreciated her kindness, but I needed to get back home and process the evening. She did not insist any further and I presume she had guessed as much.

As I was driving home, bits of the whole evening were replaying in my head. I parked my car, went up my apartment and threw myself on the bed.

 

I reached my hand to turn off the lamp when I saw the little notebook I used at work, and felt a pang in my chest. I was so _fucked_. I had my article to write, I lied to Isabella which was surprisingly unsettling and I wanted more. Much more than what I tasted tonight, I realized.

 

 _Oh, for fuck's sake, the things I do for my career_ , was the last thought I remembered before falling asleep with the light still on.

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate feedback. Good, bad or in between, I want to know what you think.


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